


Painful Kind Of Pleasure

by riverofyou



Category: Bandom, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Dry Humping, Grinding, Headaches & Migraines, M/M, Making Out, Massage, Mild Smut, Smut, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-02
Updated: 2018-05-02
Packaged: 2019-05-01 08:27:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14516364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/riverofyou/pseuds/riverofyou
Summary: When Ryan is miserable on Valentine's Day, Brendon steps in and helps him out.





	Painful Kind Of Pleasure

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this a few months ago with a romantic ending that I'm not a big fan of, so this is just the smut! Enjoy.

When Ryan wakes, the first thing he notices is the throbbing ache of his head.

The second thing he notices is a wide pair of brown eyes peering into his own.

"Happy Valentine's Day, Ryan Ross!" Brendon cries, and Ryan winces. He hates Valentine's Day, and he's single to boot. Not to mention, he has a headache.

"Brendon. What time is it?" He groans, and Brendon shrugs. "Like, 6. I fell out of the bunk, and then I ate some peeps, and then I played guitar hero, and now I'm here!"

Ryan groans, putting a pillow over his head. "What time are we supposed to be up by?"

"10:30."

"Then fuck off, Brendon." He mumbles, closing his eyes. Fuck, his head hurts so badly he might cry out in pain.

"Oh. Well, okay. Um, happy Valentine's Day." Brendon mumbles, his voice kind of croaky. Ryan ignores him, letting his eyes flutter shut.

When he wakes, there's a little cardboard box of Conversation Hearts next to his head, with Ryan's name scrawled on it in Sharpie.

Ryan doesn't feel bad. He doesn't.

***

"Will you be able to preform...?" Jon asks worriedly, and Ryan gnashes his teeth together. "I don't know. Yes? I guess." He mumbled, clutching at his head. What he WANTS is for everyone to leave him alone, let him drink his tea and read in bed. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

What he gets is Brendon, who grabs his hands. Ryan makes a noise of surprise and disgust, disgust mostly because Jesus—Brendon has sticky hands, and they're sweaty, too, and his breath smells like fucking chocolate. "Hey, Hey, Ross. You can't.. you're in pain." He whispers, sticky hands carding through Ryan's hair. He totally doesn't think when he nuzzles into the touch. He hears Spencer and Jon awkwardly leave, but he ignores it.

"You aren't making any sense. Focus, B." Ryan mumbles, focusing on breathing through his mouth. The sickly sweet scent of chocolate and Brendon's apple-cinnamon body wash are permeating around the bunk, making Ryan's headache even more agonizing. He clenches his eyes shut and lets out a whimper.

"That!" Brendon whispers quietly, his eyes huge and protruding. "You can't preform. You took Advil and it didn't help, we're out of weed, you can't possibly be in front of a screaming crowd."

"We can't cancel." Ryan whispers, clenching his teeth and doubling over, a gasp leaving his mouth. He dares Brendon to fucking argue: dares him. The show cannot go on without him. He is Brendon's backup, he sings multiple songs on the album, and the fangirls would be out for blood. Ryan will have to carry on. Brendon's face grows sad, and Ryan knows that he is realizing this, too.

"Fine." Brendon breathes. "But... let me make the pain more bearable."

Ryan doesn't even question it. It hurts too much, and Brendon is his best friend. Maybe he's been a little bit.. more, lately, but Ryan doesn't think about that. He can't. "Do it. Please, please, please." He babbles, and Brendon's hands are on his face instantly.

He rubs slow circles on Ryan's temples, adding pressure. His other hand presses pulse points all over Ryan's arms and neck, and he can't help it: Ryan lets out an orgasmic sigh, his eyes sliding shut. It's Brendon all over. It hurts, but there's the blissful feeling of relief. It feels even more amazing when Brendon's full lips brush his ear, and he begins to quietly sing, soft and pretty enough that it doesn't jar his aching body.

"Fuck, Bren." He breathes, and Brendon's hands move to his shoulders, now, and Ryan moans blissfully, lips parting.

He doesn't even mind when a mouth presses against his own, tongue slipping inside his open lips, stroking hot and wet over the roof of his mouth, licking him open. Ryan just mewls gently, because it hurts so good. Brendon takes that as encouragement, hands still rubbing his temples as he straddles Ryan. This just seems like a dream at this point, just a nice, hot dream, and Ryan moans as Brendon grinds down on him, and they're dry humping each other, eyes glazed over. Teenagers with no stamina.

Ryan bucks up, his crotch brushing Brendon's, and he fists Brendon's hair, whispering something absolutely filthy that would make even Gabe flush, and just like that, Brendon comes, still rutting down on Ryan. His mouth falls open, and his eyes widen, glazing over. It's beautiful and so, so hot, and just like that, Ryan comes too, and when the high fades, Brendon simply kisses his face, telling him to get some sleep.

That night at the show, for the first time in the history of their performances, Ryan approaches Brendon for the stage gay, simply pressing a kiss to his neck as they harmonize together. Brendon flushes, and the crowd shrieks. Ryan doesn't mind. His headache has vanished.


End file.
